


Break

by yeaka



Category: Travelers (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:48:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21892429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Philip chills at Ray’s.
Relationships: Ray Green/Philip Pearson | Traveler 3326
Kudos: 20





	Break

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Travelers or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Philip’s not in touch with his biological family, the one friend he had was dead on arrival, and he doesn’t even have a house to go home to, so protocol five is a weird place for him. He’s as exhausted at the end of their mission as the rest of his team, but he doesn’t get to go home to a big cuddly teddy bear like David. He doesn’t have a wife, a baby, parents. He’s just got a big empty warehouse that’s too cold to live in, and there’s no one there to miss him when he’s gone. 

He probably should be at the warehouse anyway, _just in case._ But Mac said _protocol five._ He should be able to just _stop_ for five minutes. He’s so tired and battered that he doesn’t even care anymore. He shows up on Ray’s doorstep, even though, for all he knows, a gorgeous woman’s going to answer the door and demand to know what he wants with her husband. 

Ray answers it. Just Ray. He smells like cigarettes and old cologne. He gives Philip a quick once over and grunts, “You look like shit.” He doesn’t even ask how Philip figured out where he lives. He always gives Philip so much credit, even though, to him, Philip must just look like a junkie. In particularly bad condition.

He welcomes that junkie into his house anyway. He hangs Philip’s coat up on the back of the door, amongst a sea of oversized, tattered jackets that could really use sorting. Philip takes a peripheral look around—no kid-sized sneakers or plants or anything fancy: just a bunch of Ray’s shoes in a pile of dirt and a bland beige hallway. Ray takes him right through to the living room and doesn’t ask if he wants anything. He gets the feeling that if he wants water, he can just go and get it. Ray meanders back to the couch and plops down on it, hiking his sock-covered feet up on the table. He looks sort of weird in black jeans and a khaki sweater. Philip usually sees him in button-ups and ties. He looks the same level of disheveled either way. 

Philip sits next to him. The couch cushion deflate underneath him, but not as bad as the old couch in the warehouse. The whole room’s run-down and bland but _better than the warehouse._ Ray pulls a plastic thing into his lap that Philip thinks is a video game controller. That was such a small part of his history class. 

Ray gestures vaguely at the colourful screen full of animated cartoon graphics: the only real light in the room, besides the screen door to the black evening sky. He mutters, “’S my kid’s. Wanna play?”

Philip shakes his head. He wouldn’t know how. He’s too tired anyway. Ray offers, “We could watch a movie or something.”

“S’up to you.”

Ray shrugs and hits something on the controller—lively music starts playing on loop. Ray controls the character on screen, taking him continuously right as the flat scenery rolls left. If there’s any story to the game, Ray doesn’t share it with Philip.

Philip doesn’t care. He shuffles closer. He sinks down. He leans his head on Ray’s shoulder, even though it twitches as Ray toggles the buttons, and when the controller vibrates, Philip can feel it. The warmth is worth it. The _comfort_ is worth it. Philip can feel his eyelids growing heavy in no time. He should probably just go back to the warehouse and sleep. 

Ray mutters, “You can stay the night, y’know. And the morning ‘n whenever.”

Philip should decline. But he mumbles, “Thanks, Ray,” and for once, just enjoys it.


End file.
